


layers

by pecanpi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 99.9 percent of this job is Not Sexy i swear, A Spoonful of NSFW Makes the Fluff Go Down, Fluffy Toptsumu, Horny Bottomi, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love in the Time of Capitalism, M/M, Not a Shrek Fic, Pining Architects AU, pre-getting together, stuff being on the wrong layer is a Trigger for architects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pecanpi/pseuds/pecanpi
Summary: Atsumu and Sakusa are architects working late hours to meet a deadline.One is horny, the other is pining. Not necessarily in that order.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 154





	layers

* * *

_Omi-kun has no right_ , Atsumu thought bitterly to himself.

He blearily checked the time, cursing under his breath when he saw it was already 1:57am. They’d been at it for hours now, only pausing for a quick coffee break or to accept a delivery from a bored Uber Eats driver.

The deadline had long been set for their 10am meeting with the client, but of course their boss just had to go and promise a million and one last-minute changes the day before. Atsumu and Sakusa had had to stay behind to pick up the rest of the redlines themselves, regardless of the fact that they’d both been at the office since 9am.

Atsumu leaned back in his chair, releasing a soft groan as he stretched his arms up high above his head. He kept the position for a few mindless seconds before casting a surreptitious glance over at his colleague, sighing dejectedly as Sakusa continued to stare with unperturbed focus at his monitor.

_He has no right lookin’ this pretty after bein’ stuck here for so long_ , Atsumu sucked his teeth, narrowing his eyes at his coworker. Sakusa’s mask had long since been discarded, a headband pulling his dark, ruffled curls back from his blue-light-blocking glasses, a strangely cute wrinkle stubbornly wedged between furrowed eyebrows. Yes, _technically_ , the taller man currently sported dark under-eye circles, skin pale beyond belief from lack of sleep, lower lip shockingly red and raw from his relentless gnawing, but he was still so, so pretty. 

Atsumu couldn’t fathom how it was possible. He rested his chin in his hand and puffed out his cheeks in frustration, all the better to stare at the other architect while he tried puzzling it out.

* * *

_Move this wall over a bit. Adjust the dim strings. Ugh, that tag needs to be changed, too... Wait, why is this on that layer? Who the fuck_ — A moan interrupted Kiyoomi’s thoughts. Startled, he jerked his head up to stare at the man to his left, their desks shoved together to form an L.

(“Team-building”, Head PM Meian had called it. “Gross,” Kiyoomi had sniffed in response.)

His desk neighbor stretched lazily away from him, head thrown back to reveal the hollow of his throat. Kiyoomi’s eyes trailed down the other man’s body, stuttering to a halt at the patch of skin generously revealed by the rise of his t-shirt, the unmistakeable V of his hips and a light trail of hair like a neon sign pointing merrily down to—

_Stop it_ , Kiyoomi scolded himself, quickly turning his attention back to his screen. _It was a groan, not a moan. There’s a difference. Get your mind out of the gutter. Disgusting._ Internally berating himself, he continued to stare at his work with blank eyes, brain supplying him with crystal-clear images of Atsumu as a sound byte of the moan-groan looped endlessly in his mind. 

_Atsumu with his head flung back on a pillow, love bites littered along his neck and chest. Atsumu gritting his teeth, clenching a fistful of raven hair as Kiyoomi’s lips wrapped around his aching cock. Atsumu moaning or groaning or whatever the fuck you want to call it as he began to lose control—_

A loud _BANG_ jolted Atsumu out of a daydream, a number of embarrassingly domestic scenes whisked away by the sudden interruption.

_Sakusa waking up next to him with a sleepy smile on his lips, sunlight streaming through the curtains for a chance to dance along his flawless skin. Sakusa mindfully completing each step of his morning skincare routine, dark curls pulled back with an unexpectedly cute headband. Sakusa elegantly sipping the coffee Atsumu made for him out of a mug of his own creation, quietly perusing the morning newspaper._

Kiyoomi mumbled a quick apology, hand stinging from where he had slammed it down on his desk to stop his intrusive thoughts. He desperately hoped his sudden outburst and undoubtedly reddened ears would be attributed to stress and frustration at their workload. He wanted to go home now, to get as far away from his bewildered colleague as possible, but it’d be a little while yet before he’d be able to stand up...

For all the intensity with which Sakusa had been staring at his monitor for the past few minutes, Atsumu vaguely realized his relentless mouse-clicking and keyboard-tapping had come to a complete halt. The blond looked at him curiously and cleared his throat, hoping his cheeks weren’t pink from his self-indulgent fantasies. Bits of his daydream flashed in and out of existence, like raster layers turning on and off over Sakusa’s silhouette. He tried his best at an easy-breezy tone of voice to belie the butterflies he felt fluttering throughout his rib cage.

“How much more ya got left, Omi-Omi?”

Kiyoomi threw him an exasperated glower at the nickname. “Too much,” he muttered, voice straining. 

“Lemme see.” Atsumu stood up and walked over to stand beside him, crossing his arms to inspect the screen before them. Kiyoomi’s heart stuttered as the other man leaned in closer, before it abruptly leapt into double-time when Atsumu shifted to rest a hand on his desk, his other arm slinging over the back of his chair. Kiyoomi watched in horror as the tip of Atsumu’s pink tongue flicked out in concentration.

_Of course it was horror, what else could it be?_ Despite this flawless logic, his mind rebelliously began to flood with thoughts of that tongue working various sensitive points along his body—

He forced himself to focus on what Atsumu was saying, thankful for the jacket he had draped over his lap 8 hours ago to ward off the nighttime chill.

“—what they say, good enough is enough, Omi-kun. The client’s not even gonna notice these little details you’re killing yourself over,” Atsumu was saying, voice low in quiet concentration. The hum of it reverberated in Kiyoomi’s ears, now redder than ever.

Atsumu glanced at the other architect when there wasn’t a snarky response to his comment. Sakusa looked a little flushed and breathless, despite the thick, oversized cardigan he wore and the jacket covering his thighs.

Out of habit, Atsumu mindlessly reached for the hand sanitizer that lived on Sakusa’s desk. He pumped it into an open palm, humming in thought as he worked it through his hands, studying the brunet. Kiyoomi’s eyes flitted down at the movement, cursing to himself when he realized the clear gel could almost be mistaken for lube. The difference in viscosity wasn’t enough to keep his imagination from kicking into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut to mentally shake the thoughts out of his mind, only for them to fling open again in surprise as he flinched at the cool touch of Atsumu’s hand to his forehead. 

Atsumu looked over him worriedly, eyes scanning his face and taking note of his rapid, shallow breathing. Sakusa stared back at him with eyes unfocused, dragging a shuddering breath in through barely-parted lips. Do the pupils dilate when someone is sick? He slowly pulled his hand away, somehow resisting the overwhelming urge to tuck a loose curl behind an ear. The back of his hand tingled from where it had rested against Sakusa’s warm skin. _So, so pretty._

He straightened back up and took a small step away when he noticed how close he had gotten to the other man.

_Omi must be gettin’ sick. He’s not actin’ like his usual self. He didn’t even say anything about me invading his personal space or touchin’ his stuff_ , Atsumu shook his head ruefully at himself. _Ugh, I must look like a creep, vulturin’ over him like this._

“Go home, Omi-kun. I’ll wrap things up here.”

Sakusa’s eyebrows snapped together in confusion. “What? No. I’m not finished yet.”

“Yes, you are,” came the firm response. Kiyoomi felt a slight chill race up his spine at the authoritative tone. “See, you’re shiverin’. And ya felt a little warm to me. I don’t want ya getting sick when we still have other deadlines coming up. Go home.”

“But what about you? Are you close?” Kiyoomi didn’t bother correcting his rather logical, albeit erroneous, deduction, and refused to acknowledge any other scenarios in which his questions could be asked.

“Eh, close enough,” Atsumu lied, the corner of his mouth quirking up to his usual lazy smirk. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, we’ll be fine for the meeting. I don’t need ya passin’ out on me during the review because you didn’t get enough beauty sleep.” 

Kiyoomi weighed his options. On the one hand, he felt guilty leaving the rest of the work to Atsumu when nothing was really wrong with him, regardless of how capable and detailed the man was at his job. On the other, it might be better to have at least one of them be alert and ready for the meeting, as opposed to both of them being half-dead from exhaustion. Taking care of his other... needs was just a bonus. 

“Fine,” Kiyoomi nodded, “but call me if you need help. The firm can’t afford to lose this client. I’ll help you plot the sheets in the morning.”

“10-4, Omi-Omi. Now go on, git.”

* * *

Atsumu settled back in his chair once Sakusa had left, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. His phone lit up and briefly buzzed from where it laid on his desk.

**omi-omi**

_> Thanks. I owe you one._

**Miya Atsumu**

_> buy me a drink n we’ll call it even_

**omi-omi**

_> ...Fine._

_ > Goodnight._

Atsumu smiled with satisfaction, firing one last message off to Sakusa before putting his phone away to get started on the mountain of redlines before him. He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. Time to put his money where his mouth was. 

* * *

Kiyoomi stepped into his apartment, reaching into his pocket when his phone vibrated again. He blinked down at the live photo he had received from Atsumu, allowing his eyes to rove up and down every detail now that he was in the privacy of his own home. He pressed the screen again and again to replay it, drinking in the slight flex of Atsumu’s bicep and chest as he raised a coffee mug at him in good cheer, a flirtatious wink accompanying a lopsided smile.

How was it possible for him to look this good? How was anyone _allowed_ to look this good? In addition to the fact that Atsumu was coming up on working 18 hours straight, Kiyoomi knew he usually spent his early mornings at the gym before work. Despite it all, the man was practically glowing under that harsh, fluorescent office lighting, for fuck’s sake. 

Kiyoomi bit his lip as the tiny Adonis winked at him again.

Yes, he definitely had some needs to take care of.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  if you enjoyed this, you can share the tweet for it [here](https://tinyurl.com/yxc3a2qj)!
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pecanpi_/)!
> 
>   
> definitions:
> 
> “go on, git”: country slang, short for “go on, get going”. not the same as git (n., british english)  
> (not sure if this is widely known or not, but just in case it’s local slang. atsumu’s NOT calling sakusa a git lol)
> 
> redlines (n., architectural): markups on a drawing set to indicate edits/changes to be made, usually done with a red pen. can be used as a verb, ex. i need to redline this set.
> 
> pick up (redlines) (v., arch.): to make changes to the drawings as indicated by the redlines. 
> 
> dim strings, dimension strings (n., arch.): lines that indicate dimensions of an object or area. 
> 
> tag (n., arch.): symbols used on drawings to indicate a note, detail, other drawing, etc. to reference in order to fully understand wtf is going on. can be used as a verb, ex. this detail needs to be tagged.
> 
> PM (n., arch.): project manager
> 
> plot (v., arch.): to print using a plotter, those giant oversized printers that use big ol’ rolls of paper. typical construction sets are 24”x36” (in the US, at least. all of these are US terms. that’s all i know for the time being haha)
> 
> sheet (n., arch.): individual page of a drawing set


End file.
